The Life of a Soldier
by moscowmoocow
Summary: The world of pokemon is exploding in war. Regions turn their backs on each other. Many are dying. The Pokemon Draft is instated. Are you willing to join? Rated M for harsh language, violence, and romantic relations. See more inside!
1. OC Form

_**Hey everyone! **_

_**To all who loved C.C., I've decided to make another story! This won't be the same as C.C. (IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT, READ CAMP CATCHEM'ALL. **_**NOW**_**.) This story is going to revolve around war, battles, and bloodthirsty rivalry (with the desired romances, of course). A war between regions, A war between human and human; a war between pokemon and pokemon. **_

_**If you would LOVE to submit an OC (ONE ONLY;;;;IF YOU HAVE TO SUBMIT MORE, THEN PM ME) **_

_**Fill out this lovely form: THE MORE DETAILED THE BETTERZ**_

**Name**: (First and Last, Middle works but not necessary)

**Age**: 17-21 ONLY, (unless you're creating a commander/drill sergeant/general. THEN PM ME)

**Gender**: _MALE OR FEMALE_.

**Appearance**: (height, body type, eyecolor, hair, skin color, etc? go wild)

**Personality**: (this is a big one, be _DESCRIPTIVE_. Any flaws? Impediments? Embarrassing talents? I WANT TO KNOW. Scared of blood? Cant shoot a weapon?)

**Hometown/Region**: (nothing made up please, no isshu. REGION IS IMPORTANT—WILL PLAY A ROLE IN WHO YOU'RE FIGHTING FOR.)

**History/Backstory**: (Family, tragic accidents, anything that would cause YOUR poke-soldier to enlist! This can be brief but it needs to be to the point)

**Desired role:** (Nurse, Soldier, Bystander, Normal Trainer, Air Force, Etc. For Figures of Authority aka generals mentors and drill sergeants please PM me.)

**Pokemon**: (SIX ONLY, LIST GENDER. If you list the attacks I am deleting your character on sight. Also, if you MUST MUST MUST MUST have a goddamned nickname then make your main pokemon have a nickname ONNLY. Or I will delete your character.)

**Weapon of Choice**: NO GUNS. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO GUNS OR I WILL DELETE YOUR CHARACTER. DAMMIT. Use more exciting things like katanas and shuriken. Thank you :)

XXX : EXAMPLE: XXX

**Name**: Nikolas Tarkov

**Age**: 46

**Gender**: _MALE _

**Appearance/Clothing**: Nikolas Tarkov stands strong at five eight, with an extreme muscular build. His hair is light blonde and his eyes are light blue. He has three scars running from his scalp over his eye, and these are white and shining. He has multiple tattoos on his large biceps. He wears military clothing—either a olive green muscle shirt, or white or black wife beater. These are tucked into camouflage pants which are tucked into a battle-worn pair of combat boots. Around his neck are dog tags, with the Russian Inscription, "Идти как по маслу" or, "To Go with a Run." His stubbly beard is light and thin, as well as his hair. Tarkov wears his nameplate always, reading "G. Tarkov" And on special occasions He wears his entire dress uniform, complete with bars, medals, and pins. On hot days Tarkov wears amber-glass aviator sunglasses and ties an olive green bandana across his forehead. On his hands are worn out gloves that have the fingers cut off.

**Personality** : Tarkov screams. He screams with all of his might. He screams because his mother screamed. His Grandmother screams. They all scream at Nikolas Tarkov, and because of this Nikolas Screams right back. Tarkov is driven and strong, almost unfeeling in the face of danger. He is bitter, he is battle-worn, and tough. He never shies from blood and isn't hesitant for the kill, and these traits have made him the best general Kanto has ever seen. His voice carries, his heart beats young and strong, and he can fight until the death. Tarkov is compassionate about his recruits. He knows he is training them to die, but this fact only pushes him harder to train them, to train them to cheat death and "win" wars. Tarkov is of Russian descent, and his accent is thick and heavy and intimidating. He has a weakness for crepes, he has a weakness for dying children and pokemon. Although these weaknesses are few they are strong in their sway over the general. He is a fan of high respect and screeches at anyone who disrespects women and the elderly.

**Hometown/Region**: Born in the country side of Fuschia City. Kanto

**History/Backstory**: Nikolas' father left when Nikolas was very young, so he had to deal with his mother and the sick Grandmother (nana Tarkov). They taught their children young to be strong, unfeeling, and lethal. War machines. Killers. Times were tougher then, with tension rising and many dying. Nikolas was cared for by his mother, no mistake, but her harsh exterior molded him into the stoic monster he could be. He had three brothers, all much older, who never paid much attention to Tarkov. Tarkov saw his brothers go into the wars as he grew up, and assumed that he must fufill this role as well.

**Desired role:** General/Drill Sergeant

**Pokemon**: Nidoking (M) Nidoqueen (F) Rhyhorn (M)Electabuzz (M) Golem (F) Machamp (M)

**Weapon of Choice**: Tarkov doesn't enjoy many weapons, but he favors a long machete he affectionately calls "Chenkov" and an aluminum baseball bat.


	2. Prologue: A Taste of Duty

**Hey everyone! Please review and SEND IN YOUR CHARACTERS. It would help me a lot if we actually had people to fight these wars -_- Also, this little prologue is short, I know, but it's just a sample of what's to come! **

**REVIEW.**

**XXX**

_Prologue-_

Interlude to War: 

He had never anticipated receiving "the letter." The thick, white envelope that would seal his fate forever. With shaking fingers he lifted it out of his mother's hands and tore it open.

"_Requesting the services of Hiro Koketzu Taminama in the First Kantonian Army…_" The words burned on his lips as he scanned the rest of the conscription notice. "_Report to the training facilities at Fort Vermilion within two days of this notice….bring nothing but your pride and your pokemon_." Hiro's mother, Nozomi, buried her face in her long fingers and began to sob. First her husband, and now her only son…

"T-they c-an-n't tak-ke another-r!" She moaned, reaching for the hem of Hiro's white shirt. She dragged her boy down into a seat and reached across the tiny wooden table to hug him, to clutch him, to desperately cling to the only blood tie that remained.

"Mom, I'll be home in three days. They won't take me with my eye, remember?" He winked a cloudy blue eye at his mother in hopes of lifting her spirits. Her son's blind eye made her smile softly for the first time—it was the ticket she needed to keep her child.

"Of course!" She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her lavender cardigan. "And we'll stay together." She reached below the table to pat Hiro's loyal companion, Jolteon, on his spiked head. The Lightning pokemon licked her hand in response, sending a slight static current up her arm. With a shaky laugh she pulled her hand away and rose to continue the dishes, tying her long black hair in a knot upon her head.

"They can't take you away from me, Hiro. Just let them try." Hiro looked at his mother with sympathetic eyes. He knew she was being optimistic. Times were tougher now.

The army was taking anyone who would join, anyone between the ages of eighteen to twenty-six. It was a maddening business they ran, a profession that called for many bodies with lots of job opportunities. Once someone was fired, another could fight in his or her place. With the passing of his eighteenth birthday, Hiro thought he had barely missed the cutoff. But no, the eyes of war have raked over every home, scouring every family of their young and strong and patriotic. And the youngest Taminama was no exception. Hiro half-jogged up the narrow staircase and into his room, shutting the door behind Jolteon.

"This is bad, Jolt. We can't get out of this one. You and I both know that." He whispered to his friend. Nodding slowly, the dog-like pokemon leapt from the old mattress to the dresser, pawing at a picture frame on its surface. Hiro took the photograph from the shelf and sighed once more—of course Jolt would choose the photo of his father.

Tokono Taminama, a proud and powerful commander in the Kantonian Army. He was a hero, a champion, a fighter, and a loving man. With sharp, angular features and warm brown eyes, his father was a striking man, even in the browning photograph. He stood in his uniform, displaying all of his medals, with his Flareon by his side. His father was handsome, and Hiro was almost a carbon copy of the older Taminama. He held up the picture of his dad next to his face in the full-body mirror, running quick comparisons in his calculating mind.

The boy saw that he was tall and lanky, around six feet, and had a toned build. His teeth were straight and white, and his thick black hair was spiked up in a faux hawk. He glanced at his white v-neck, his many bracelets, and down past his black drainpipe jeans to his black sneakers. He was a normal kid. Hardly eighteen, hardly a man, hardly the image of his father. Hiro tossed the frame back onto the dresser and collapsed on his tattered comforter.

He had a war to avoid.

XXX

"Polisia. You know you'll be considered a traitor if you ever return…" Her older sister hissed, stuffing provisions in the old backpack that belonged to their father. In the neutral lands of Hoenn, joining a side meant you were abandoning all ties to your home region. Polisia knew this, as did every other brave Hoennian before her. The war pressed beyond their "neutral borders" although everyone knew that the Hoenn region secretly preferred the Sinnohian cause. It was only a matter of weeks before Hoenn officially allied with Sinnoh and the battle was brought to the home front.

"Rin, I understand. If no one decides to defend us then who will? Certainly not anyone from Johto or Kanto." She spat, whistling low to the upper landing of their tiny cottage. Polisia's three companions raced down the carpeted steps and slid to a stop at their master's feet. Her Swellow flit to her shoulder, and her Azumarill hugged her left leg. Frosslass, unaffectionate but still caring, blinked twice at her master.

"You can't get caught. Take the train and pretend you're travelling back to Sinnoh. I've got your fake I.D. and your fake conscription papers. They're in the pack. You're officially Polisia Marui, an eighteen-year-old enlisted navy seal." Her sister tightened the straps around Polisia's shoulders before hugging her tightly.

"And take this. It will bring you good luck." She unclasped the sapphire necklace around her neck and refastened the hook over her sister's tanned throat. Moving the long black ponytail out of the way, and brushing the bangs from her sister's violet eyes, Rin placed a kiss on Polisia's forehead.

"This was mother's necklace…"She choked, touching the sapphire pendant with a shaking hand.

"It'll protect you. Go, quick! Before the sun rises." Polisia straightened her navy blue top and tied the laces to her boots before dashing out the door, recalling her trusted companions. Tied to her back was a long and deadly spear, a weapon that belonged to her father before the war claimed him. Her tanned skin helped conceal her in the reeds of Mossdeep City, not to mention the waist length black hair that formed a curtain around her five and a half foot frame. She barely reached the interregional train station as the sun peeked over the mountains, reigning in a new day for bloodshed and terror.

XXX

**Sneak preview! **

**I need some more people to send in characters! I need some from SINNOH AND HOENN. **

**Please REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW and recommend to your friends! **


	3. A Soldier's Creed

**Here's the next installment! I'm changing the rating from T to M, just because there's a lot of violence and there's a LOT of cussing. Thanks to everyone who sent me an OC, expect their appearances soon! **

**Check out my other story if you haven't already! **

**INSPIRATION FOR TARKOV'S SPEECHES: FULL METAL JACKET. **

**XXX**

Hiro stepped off of his Charizard in the pre-dawn light, recalling his companion and turning toward Fort Vermilion. A manifestation of strength and power, Fort Vermilion stood sentinel on the bluffs overlooking the ocean. The fort was constructed of stone, steel, and what Hiro guessed was the wood of the sequoia tree. In the distance a trumpet blared the familiar wake-up call that was routinely played to rouse the recruits. He approached the wrought iron gates and waited in the recruiting station, behind a few other boys who also needed the physical examination.

"Taminama!" The secretary called. The young boy walked up to the wooden desk and scanned the nameplate, _Anya M., _giving her his papers. The woman was short, with blonde hair gelled into a neat ponytail. Behind gold-rimmed glasses were piercing blue eyes.

"Right this way." She stamped his papers and directed him down the left hallway. An important-looking man took his papers in the next room, signed a dotted line and began the examination.

"Hiro Taminama. Aged eighteen, weight…" Hiro stepped on the scale. "One thirty three? You're skin and bones, private." The man, introducing himself as Dr. Williams, had Hiro continue to do push-ups, sit-ups, a set of x-rays, a hearing exam, and lastly, the eye exam.

"Please cover your left eye with the cup." Hiro did as he was told. "And read the bottom three lines."

"X…G…H…E…L…T…A…H…G…P." The doctor nodded and asked him to cover his right eye. Hiro's vision dimmed into the familiar blackness, the impairment that has impeded him for years.

"Read the top three lines." He instructed.

"I can't, sir. I'm blind."

"I know you're trying to stay home, son. But lying isn't going to save you from the corps." He checked another box and signed the approval papers.

"Welcome to the corps!"

Hiro's stomach plummeted into his ankles. It was over.

XXX

"Quick! Cut back and circle around! Tropius, solar beam!" Hunter blocked an ice beam with a spin of her staff and rolled behind her companion. The large beast erupted in light and power, illuminating the battlefield and piercing his enemy, which at this moment was a Sneasel. Hunter sprinted behind cover and recalled her friend right as a hyperbeam aerial attack was barreling toward him. Her Teddiursa clung to her leg, keeping a keen eye as Hunter cleaned a wound on her stomach. A few moments later another body slammed into the bunker she was crouching in, and she punched the man until his helmet fell off.

She relaxed when she saw a shock of pink hair.

"Tatter, don't scare me like that." She sighed. Her fellow Lieutenant stole a kiss from her cheek and smiled.

"You're covered in blood." She groaned, wiping the smudge that now rested on her face.

"You liiiike it." He winked and released Duke, his Gallade. "Let's go, Duke. Move out." The couple leapt into a three-way scuffle between a Sinnohian man and his two Drapions, one of his comrades manning a pack of Ninjask, and a soldier from Vicks platoon, with no pokemon out.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING UNARMED, PRIVATE!" Vick wheeled in with his katana, slicing the leg of the Drapion trainer and taking the brunt of two poison stings in his spine and his right thigh. Gallade threw a protect around his master and teleported them out of the fight. They rematerialized in the med tent back at base in the dense Petalburg woods. The woods were where the two armies were fighting that day, using the dense trees as cover and burning them down to create space. It was a never ending cycle of creation and destruction.

Vick and Duke stumbled into the med tent, gasping and panting, the toxins spreading quickly in his veins. It made his limbs feel heavy, his vision blurred, every breath a labor.

The medic quickly dragged Vick onto a cold metal table, ripping open the back of his uniform with the slash of a scalpel. The location of his wound was clear—the tell-tale purple rash and raised point of entry, not to mention the large stinger jutting out of his back.

"Chansey, the forceps. And some antidote, stat!" The pinkish pokemon retrieved the large tweezers from a plastic drawer, and fished one of the last orange bottles of antidote out of the icebox. Duke watched the medic clamp onto the stinger and pull out at an angle, preventing any more poison from escaping the needle. After it had been extracted it was placed on the tray beside her. With the practiced touch of her hands she squeezed the wound towards its entrance point. Chansey took an antiseptic wipe and dabbed the purplish liquid that seeped out of the wound. After all the poison had been extracted she sprayed the wound, which healed instantly. The procedure was repeated for his thigh.

Vick Tatter wasn't new to these wounds. They would only set him back. But they never finished him. He would be back fighting next to Hunter in a few hours. As if she answered his thoughts, Hunter burst through the burlap flap of the med tent, eyes scanning fervently for her comrade. When her green eyes fell upon him, a sigh of relief escaped her.

"Tatter, you gave me a scare there." Her eyes raked over his form. His long limbs and tall build, the way his hands were smooth and thin. His soft brown eyes and unique pink hair. It was a sight that was both comforting and irritating. Hunter hated Vick in a way, sure, especially when he would prey on her and flirt. But there exists a bond between comrades, Lieutenants included, that could not be denied.

"Get off your ass, you lazy jerk." She ordered, saluting Vick and slapping him with the same hand. With that command Hunter left with Teddiursa in tow.

XXX

"Welcome to the Sinnohian Naval Corps. You are assigned to bunker 6G, take a uniform and a mess kit." Polisia did as she was told and walked through the front doors of the Navy's Base. All of the walls were a blue-grey color, and the shining white linoleum contrasted the slate harshly. She followed the maps on the walls until she reached Bunker G. Polisia dragged her duffel bag onto the top bunk and began to unpack her belongings into a wall locker. The inside of Bunker 6G had four bunks on opposite sides of the room, white walls, grey metal beds, and industrial carpet colored the familiar slate grey of the corps.

"I wouldn't unpack that much if I were you." A male voice said. Polisia looked over her left shoulder, toward the door, and locked eyes with a boy around her age. He wasn't that tall, around 5'9, and had a very muscular build. Polisia guessed that what he lacked in height he made up for in brawn. His skin was dark, a creamy tan that made his complexion clear. His eyes were a tawny gold, a strange burnt hue that reminded Polisia of a tiger. He was wearing the traditional uniform of the Sinnohian Naval Corps, a white t-shirt underneath a white blazer-type shirt, complete with matching white slacks and polished dress shoes. Polisia learned that this version of the uniform was for everyday wear, the dark blue and black versions were worn on special occasions.

"Why shouldn't I?" She replied.

"Because we're not staying here long. In two weeks we're being shipped off, no pun intended." He unbuttoned the blazer and took it off, sitting on the lower bunk opposite of Polisia's.

"With what training?" She asked, shocked that she had almost no time to assimilate to the armed forces.

"Whatever you've got. I saw your spear. Looks pretty heavy for a girl like you. I'm Rallin Bates." He strode over and extended a neatly kept hand. She took it with her delicate fingers slowly, surprised at the gentle touch.

"I'm Polisia. And the spear was my father's." He nodded and turned, reaching for something from his pocket.

"What pokemon do you have?" He asked suddenly. Polisia shrugged and reached for the leather bag slung over her shoulder. She removed all three of the sky blue pokeballs, tossing them into the air and calling their names.

"Swellow, Azumarill, and Frosslass! Come meet Rallin!" The three female pokemon waved shyly to the attractive recruit across from them. With a light chuckle he tossed two black pokeballs in front of them. Materializing in the white light were Feraligatr and Sharpedo. They both were fearsome in stature and expression. Rallin saw Polisia's eyes widen and he smiled sheepishly.

"They're not as tough as they look." Feraligatr snorted, a mocking sound, and Sharpedo rolled his eyes. Would his master ever back them up?

"Cmon. We've got our initiation lessons in about thirty minutes or so. Let's stick together." Rallin recalled his companions and stretched a hand to Polisia, helping her down from the metal bunk.

"Lead the way." She smiled, walking behind him out the door.

XXX

"Wait, we have to _WHAT_?" Polisia screeched. Rallin grinned again and blushed, embarrassed for excluding one significant detail: the haircuts.

The Sinnohian Naval Corps took camouflage seriously, and this usually involved the cutting and dyeing of hair. Rallin's shaggy brown locks were cut short and dyed a deep cerulean, colored to match the seas of Sinnoh perfectly. Polisia clutched her gorgeous black hair—how could they do this to her?

"Do you have any idea how long it takes to grow this out?" Polisia groaned. The barber laughed loudly.

"I'm guessing a long time, now hold still!" He took the clippers and sheared a good two feet from her waist-length hair, so now the black locks brushed the middle of her back. Tears formed in her eyes as the shiny black strands were swept up by a red-headed recruit. Her stomach twisted further as a harsh-smelling blue dye was rubbed into her scalp and down to the ends. Within six minutes her legendary hair was history. Now she and Rallin sported "Sinnohian Slate" hairstyles. The Fleet Admiral, Gunner Skyes, marched into the room to make his daily rounds.

"Hmm, Marui, is it? How do you like your new hairstyle?" Polisia stood from the barber's chair and saluted, clicking her heels and straightening her spine.

"Sir, I'm a little new to it, to be honest, Sir." The Fleet Admiral laughed and saluted back.

"It serves an actual purpose y'know. When we launch recruits seaborne, what do they look like swimming in the water?" Polisia blinked.

"Water, Sir?"

"Excellent! So as to throw off the endeavors of the amazingly accurate Johto Air Force…we dye our hair blue." The Fleet Admiral smiled and exited the barber's bunk.

XXX

"Ew. Sloppy Joes. This is a little past disgusting." Ipsa Malik sighed, moving her red plastic tray down the iron bar and flinching when the cook hurled a scoop of mashed potatoes onto her plate.

"Got a problem?" He growled. Ipsa narrowed her dark brown eyes and shook her head. After she went through the food line she turned toward the Fort Solaceon Mess Hall, suddenly aware that the entire room was staring at her. She felt a blush creep onto her light brown cheeks, and the burning made her want to hide in her wavy black hair and go home. She slapped her red plastic tray onto a red plastic table and sat alone. She sighed once more and pushed the food away, she wasn't hungry. Three tables over, a couple of new soldiers whispered about her animatedly. The first was a boy who was tall, even when sitting. His skin was white and his eyes were a vibrant sky blue. His hair was messy, flyaway, and had a sandy blonde color to it. He gesticulated often when he talked, and these hand motions made the puckered white scar on his left arm very visible.

"Where do you think she's from?" He hissed. The girl next to him shrugged, peeking at the dark haired girl named Ipsa out of the corners of her dark blue eyes. Her long light-brown hair, whose color was reminiscent of copper, flowed straight and beautiful down her back. She wore the black t-shirt that was provided by the Sinnohian Army and a tight pair of olive green stretch jeans, which hugged every muscle in her strong and flexible legs.

"Maybe Hoenn. I've never seen someone like her…she's wearing some sort of tribal outfit or something. Very non-city-like." The first boy who spoke, later known as Rico Evans, could not stop contemplating the purpose or back story of the Native American-looking soldier.

"Why do you care so much, Rico?" The girl beside him, named Talyn Lynch, asked in a haughty tone.

"Tally. She's alone and she's different. She might just want to be talked to!" He flashed Talyn his signature smile (a crooked smirk with the whisper of a wink) and raised his eyebrows.

"Whatever. She's freaking skinny and she's dressed like an Indian." She shoved a mouthful of potatoes in and offered some to her Ariados, who was perched in his favorite spot. (her upper back).

"You're not giving her enough credit. She looks damn good in that outfit." He gestured to the brown, earthy tones of her leggings, which disappeared into darker brown lace up boots. On her top she wore a brown tanktop that hugged her torso tightly. Stretched across the front was the image of a blue bird, but the design was abstract and jagged. From her elbow to her wrist were brown leather arm guards, and her gloves were fingerless and new.

"ATTENTION, SCRUBS! DINNER IS OVER IN T-MINUS TEN MINUTES! BACK TO BARRACKS FOR INSPECTION THEN LIGHTS OUT!" Lieutenant Melody Kirkland roared. Her icy-white hair was straight and choppy, cut short to the nape of her neck. She didn't need the megaphone that the other leaders used, her vocal chords were twice as strong. At her hip, sitting tall at attention, was her Zangoose. "Ricochet" was never apart from her master, and her discipline and demeanor was almost identical to Melody's. The pair fit like puzzle pieces. On the opposite side of the mess hall was her fellow Lieutenant Cameron Torvenal. He had a Yanmega, who was seated beside him at the Lieutenants' table. The great dragonfly was drinking a cup of black coffee and listening to his master prattle on about tactics.

"It's obvious that you call back your comrade during an explosion. Using them as decoys is suicide." His black hair was spiked and short, and he wore an olive green long sleeved shirt and the Lieutenant's blazer over it. His medals and patches were bright against the black material. His eyes were a normal shade of blue and his skin was a nice light color.

"Whatever you say, Torvenal. But this war is getting out of hand. I bet you money that every new scrub is gonna lose at least one comrade." Cameron scanned the room and sighed, for his co-worker's assessment was probably true. Enlisting was like signing a death warrant.

XXX

"Hey, I'm Rico. Rico Evans." Ipsa looked up from her untouched food and smiled.

"I'm Ipsa Malik. Don't fear the reaper." Rico withdrew his hand and cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"What?"

"The Reaper. That's what _they _call me. My nickname." Ipsa raised a thick but manicured brow. Rico nodded, still confused, and shook her hand.

"Wondering if you'd like to eat with us." Rico pointed to Talyn, who calmly raised a hand and waved.

"I don't eat, but thank you." She rose and sat down across from Rico and Talyn, watching them eat their food in silence. After a few minutes a bell sounded, signaling the end of dinner.

"MOVE OUT! TRAYS IN THE DISH RACK, PLATES IN THE TRASH! _YOU'RE NOT MOVING FAST ENOUGH_, EVANS!" Rico scrambled into the hallway and back to the barracks with Talyn, leaving Ipsa and her Honchkrow standing alone.

XXX

"GOOD EVENING, LADIES! MY NAME IS GENERAL NIKOLAS K. TARKOV, YOUR SENIOR DRILL INSTRUCTOR, AND FROM NOW ON, I AM YOUR MOTHER. I WILL RAISE YOU TO BE THE BEST SOLDIERS THIS ARMY HAS SEEN!" His voice projected easily across the hall of barrack 8D, and some soldiers believed that his voice was audible even in the Sinnohian Mountains.

"You all now live on my island! If you ladies leave my island, you will be a lethal weapon! You will be a minister of death, _praying for war! _You will become so accustomed to my ways that a day without blood would be a day without sunshine! _Depressing and bleak!" _He walked past bunk after bunk, sizing up his new recruits and inspecting their hygiene. Each bunker held about forty bunks, and each bunk had two beds, a top and bottom. The bunker was large and open, with fluorescent bar lights and small windows.

"From now on you will only speak when spoken to, and the first and last words out of your filthy sewers will be sir. Is this understood?"

"SIR, YES, SIR!" The company replied.

"What was that? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" Tarkov roared.

"_SIR, YES, SIR!"_ Tarkov nodded his approval.

"UNTIL THE DAY YOU ALL GRADUATE AND BECOME REAL MEMBERS OF MY BELOVED CORPS, YOU ARE ALL SCUM. YOU ARE THE LOWEST FORM OF LIFE ON EARTH. HELL, YOU AREN'T EVEN HUMAN FUCKING BEINGS! BECAUSE I AM HARD YOU WILL NOT LIKE ME, BUT THE TOUGHER I AM THE MORE YOU WILL LEARN. YOU ARE ALL EQUALLY WORTHLESS TO ME, UNTIL YOU CAN PROVE THAT YOU'RE PACKING THE GEAR TO SERVE IN MY BELOVED CORPS. DO YOU SHITBAGS UNDERSTAND THAT?"

_"Sir, yes, sir!" _The company shouted. Tarkov smiled and approached the first soldier he saw.

"How tall are you, private?" He demanded.

"Sir, five-foot-ten, sir!"

"_Five foot ten_? I didn't know they stacked shit that high! Where are you from private?" He circled around the tanned recruit, who couldn't have been older than seventeen. His eyes were a chocolate brown, and his black hair was buzzed short. He was lanky and thin, wearing camouflage pants and no shirt.

"Sir, Saffron City, Sir!"

"And _why _have you decided to join my beloved corps?" He stopped in front of the boy, staring him down with slate grey eyes.

"Sir, to kill, and because the judge thought the army was the only suitable punishment, Sir!"

"WELL DAMN STRAIGHT THIS IS A SUITABLE PUNISHMENT! WHAT IS YOUR NAME, PRIVATE?"

"Sir, Stephen Gregor O'don, Sir!"

"What in the fuck's kinda name is that? From now on you're known as Private Steve-O! Do you like your new name, Private Steve-O?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Good. Recruits, ATTENTION! PREPARE TO MOUNT!" The soldiers removed their weapons, from spears to swords to knives, and turned toward their bunks.

"MOUNT!" They rolled into bottom bunks, leapt into the top bunks, and settled themselves in alternating patterns. Every other person had their head facing north, the others facing south.

"Excellent! Now, pray!" A collective inhale resounded throughout the bunk, and everyone sounded off simultaneously. The "prayer" was shouted loudly, each soldier contributing to the whole sound of a complete platoon. Clutching their weapons over their hearts, the soldiers did not skip one word.

"This is my weapon! There are many like it but this one is mine! My weapon is my _best friend!_ It is my life. I must master my weapon as I must master my life! Without me, my weapon is useless. Without my weapon, I am useless. I must use my weapon true. I must fight better than my enemy, who is trying to kill me. I must kill him before he kills me. Before Arceus I swear this creed: My weapon and myself are defenders of my country, we are the masters of our enemy, we are the saviors of my life. So be it, until there is no enemy, but peace. Amen."

Tarkov smiled and flipped a light switch by the door, drenching the room in darkness.

"Goodnight, Ladies!" He jeered.

"Goodnight, Sir!"

Hiro rolled restlessly in his bunk, sliding his double swords beneath the sheet he was sleeping on. Jolteon was curled at his feet, his fur giving off a slight static current every time he exhaled. Hiro was terrified. He had no idea how he was going to tell his mother. She would weep for weeks. Maybe he should just run. But no, deserters were often put on the front line, to be captured by the opponent. He would have to stay. It wasn't the fighting that scared him, or even the fear of death. Those things made him excited. It was the fear that he would leave his poor mother alone. She was already traumatized by the loss of her husband. How could she handle another death? He sighed.

"Well, we're in the gutter now, Jolt." He whispered. Jolteon moved next to his face and nudged him once with his right paw.

"You're right. We're all in the gutter, but some of us look at the stars." Jolteon licked Hiro's face, shocking him slightly, and resumed sleeping.

XXX

**Hey guys, just got my computer back! Wanted to give this short chappie out before school starts. Don't worry if your character didn't show up, their destiny just wasn't in this chapter. : ) **

**TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK. Review and criticism help me become a better writer.**

**So let it rip.**

**Much love, Katie. **


	4. Ignited

**Are you ready for some blood and guts?**

**XXX**

It was the darkest hour of the night. The hour before dawn. It made sneak attacks easier.

At least for "Mr. X." The tall, athletic figure slunk silently in the darkest hour, sheathed in black clothing. The dark material covered the scars on his body, the silver of his roots, and the metallic limb he had come to call an arm. At his feet, moving as silent as he did, was a Gengar. The spectral being dissolved in and out of substantiality, his red eyes aglow with a vicious gleam. At times the red eyes of the pokemon would meet the red eyes of his master, and they would share a brief understanding:

Today's mission was to kill.

He was on a blood hunt for anyone or anything wearing the Sinnohian Insignia on their breast pockets. The way "Mr. X" saw it, there would never be enough blood to spill in the name of his wife and child. Their lives could never be restored. So it was his job to terminate the lives of the Sinnohian people. He was merciless in his trade, showing no restraint or regret. No one gave his family mercy—why should anyone else deserve the same?

He slicked black hair dye into his already visible silver roots, coloring his hair to a more uniform shade. After this task was completed the couple set off toward their target. Today, the small community that was Daybreak Town was the lucky winner. He chuckled softly at the irony of attacking Daybreak Town _at_ daybreak.

"Mr. X" knew that the town had recently been hiding some Johtoian Aircraft, and decided to act accordingly. He had one hour before the sun rose and his cover would be blown. But all he would really need was ten minutes. He reached the town square and scrambled onto the large stone monument there. His Gengar floated to his side and waited for the command.

"Nightmare, then Dream eater, now." He whispered. Shooting off into the dark sky, Gengar's eyes were the only thing visible to "Mr. X." They grew bright with a menacing glare, until they had encompassed the subconscious compilations of the entire town.

"Good. Now for my next trick…" He unclipped a black pokeball from his belt and quietly summoned his Zangoose. She sprung from the ball into a crouch, ready to take immediate orders.

"Find them." He held a small object out to the female pokemon, and she sniffed it for a moment. The Zangoose then licked the necklace once and broke into a sprint down the main street. "Mr. X" slipped the Zephyr Badge necklace into his pocket and followed her. He ran into no one as Gengar kept the town asleep and tormented. Zangoose cut down alleyways and over fences, until she reached a small auto repair garage. She hid in the brush skirting the parking lot, staring at the two guards who had not fallen under Gengar's spell. They sat awake and alert at their posts.

Zangoose looked back to her master and he nodded once. Rolling up the sleeve of his black trench coat, "Mr. X" took aim. Two poison dart guns clicked into a loaded position, and at the touch of his thumb they shot into the throat of the larger guard. He slumped over like a drunken fool.

"Jay?" His partner asked. With a growl of discontent the other guard released a Seviper. Zangoose growled low in her throat at her natural enemy.

"On my mark. Three…two…one…go!" Zangoose shot from the brush like a bullet from a gun—tangling herself in the coils of the Seviper. Thinking the pokemon was wild, the guard began to command Seviper to battle.

"Poison stin—arrgh!" "Mr.X" was already on the man, slicing his windpipe with a slash of one of his rapiers. Blood cascaded from the wound of the guard, drenching the oily concrete around him. Zangoose locked her powerful jaws on the snake and twisted, ripping off the serpent's head with one crunch. Now Zangoose looked entirely red—her maroon patches disappeared in the bloodstained fur.

"Mr. X" patted Zangoose on her head. "Good girl." He smiled. "Mr.X" quietly opened the glass door that led into the garage, and gasped at the sights inside. There was a Johtoian Air Force Fighter Jet—completely taken apart.

_They were studying our technology. _He thought.

Lying unconscious and sweating fervently was a figure in shackles. He was curled in a small ball against the west wall. He approached the figure cautiously, and confirmed their Johtoian identity before lowering his weapon.

"Gallade, use calm mind on…" He closed the pocket on his shirt to examine the stitched name. "…James Curtis here." The Gallade followed orders and began soothing the nightmare of the Curtis boy until he woke up.

"Who are you? Are you here to help me?" He pleaded. His eye was a terrible shade of red, and many lacerations had rendered his skin color indistinguishable.

"Holy hell, kid. And yes, I'm here. I'm 'Mr. X.'" He looked at the choppy brown hair that fell into the blue eyes of the young soldier and pitied him.

"How old are you, son?"

"I'm seventeen. Fresh outta academy." He smiled but winced at the expression, as it stretched a few of the cuts back open. They oozed vitreous fluid that seeped into his mouth.

"Fuck. Gallade, heal him." Gallade went to work on healing the wounds of the Johtoian Pilot.

"They've taken apart my fighter. All the secrets are in that file cabinet." James informed him. "Mr. X." contemplated this for a moment and plucked another pokeball off of his belt. He recalled Zangoose, and released a Hitmonchan.

"Fire punch. Destroy the cabinet. And on my signal, punch the gas line."

"Wait WHAT? You'll kill us all!" James cried. "Mr. X" chuckled again and shook his head slowly.

"Skarmory, let's go." The metallic bird crouched so "Mr. X" could load James onto her back. After that was done and the cabinet was aflame, Skarmory flew into the air. She hovered near the ceiling and used steel wing to bash a hole into the wooden frame.

"Fire Punch! Gallade, Protect!" The second Hitmonchan's glove connected with the gas line, the entire garage exploded in heat and light. Just as the fighting type would have been obliterated in the inferno, he was recalled by his master, safe within the confines of his pokeball.

"Do you have your pokemon on you?" "Mr. X." realized this was a dumb question, but forgot about asking him earlier. To his obvious relief the boy had his pokemon in his jacket pocket.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Well, hell, boy. You got any flying types? You're a jet fighter, right? What in the hell kinda jet fighter doesn't own flying types?" James fumbled for the pokeballs that held Jet (his Garchomp) and Claw (his Gliscor) both pokemon emerged, beating their leathery wings and taking hold of James.

"Go home, boy." "Mr. X" growled. James thanked him sincerely and banked left, away from the sunrise and back toward Johto. "Mr. X" made a round to pick up his Gengar and stole into the morning sun, leaving no traces of his presence.

XXX

In the barracks of the Sinnohian Army, Lt. Melody Kirkland was making her morning rounds.

"Good morning, soldiers! On top of your footlockers for inspection in t-minus thirty seconds! Hands out where I can see them!" She commanded. Ipsa scrambled from her bunk, Duskull dissolving back into his pokeball. She packed her footlocker correctly and took a look at her nails.

_Oh god. They're filthy. _And _unclipped. Perfect. _

Black semi-circles of dirt were jammed under her long nails, an immaculate example of what one's nails _shouldn't _look like. With a soft groan she stepped onto her footlocker. Next to her was Rico, whose nails were hard and shining, gave Ipsa a pitiful look. Talyn was currently borrowing another soldier's clippers, hastily trying to cut their length to an appropriate measurement.

"Lynch! Get on your footlocker! What the hell do you think you're doing? Give Winters back his clippers and stop EMBARASSING YOUR PLATOON!" She screeched. The boy she had mentioned, Alex Winters, grabbed the clippers from Talyn and stepped onto his footlocker. Melody stepped to his eye level in a second, beginning her slew of insults.

"Your hair disgusts me, private! How do you expect this mess," She picked a piece of straight, chopped brown hair with a manicured nail. "to EVER demonstrate proper hygiene?" Her icy orbs raked over his tanned skin, brown eyes, down to his ratty jeans and grey t-shirt. Alex rolled his eyes and sighed.

"AM I BOTHERING YOU, SOLIDER?" She barked. He shrugged and Melody screeched in anger.

"Drop and give me twenty, and kiss the mother fucking floor every time!" She roared. With a growl of disdain he fell to the linoleum. Ipsa, watching Alex's hair flutter with every push-up, thanked Arceus silently for Melody's current distraction.

XXX

Tarkov decided to start the morning right. He grabbed a baseball bat out of the supply closet and scooped a metal trashcan from the hall. He slammed the bat into the trashcan time after time, sending a cacophony of clattering into the unconscious ears of the barracks.

"WAKE UP, SHITBAGS! TODAY IS ORIENTATION INTO THE CONFINES OF HELL!" He shouted. Everyone rushed out of the sheets and to attention, respective pokemon falling in line beside them. Everyone except a certain recruit. She was out cold in her bunk, dark hair over her face. It was black in color, with the ends dyed a deep red. Her skin was a light olive color, and her outfit consisted of a black tank top and black capri pants. Tarkov noticed the lack of movement from the girl and stomped over to her.

"GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE! DID IT EVER FUCKING OCCUR TO YOU THAT WE MIGHT HAVE TRAINING TODAY?" She jumped at the yelling and smacked her head on the railing.

"WHAT IS YOUR NAME, PRIVATE?" Tarkov demanded.

"Sir, Flaria Swiftbreeze, Sir!" She rolled out of the bedding and stood at attention, swallowing the guilt in her throat.

"Well you've officially fucked up, Private Swiftbreeze. And if you can't tell, I'm a little pissed off. So from now on, every time YOU fuck up, THEY pay for it!" He flung his arm toward the rest of the recruits. Her honey colored eyes widened in fear.

"EVERYONE, DROP AND GIVE ME TWENTY! AND LET ME HEAR YOU SING!" Tarkov bellowed. Each recruit immediately abandoned their current task and fell to the floor, waiting for the start command.

"GO!"

"One…Two…Three…Four…I…Love…Kanto…Corps!" Each word was punctuated by a push-up, and whenever their voices lost sync he would make them start over.

"I want PERFECTION, maggots! Now move your asses outside before I move them for you! And YOU!" He grabbed Flaria by the tags around her neck, bringing her close to his face. His breath was warm and smelled of cinnamon gum, which Flaria noticed he chewed violently whenever he was screaming.  
"You better square your ass away and start shitting me silver cufflinks, or I will definitely _fuck you up_!" He shoved Flaria out the door with the rest of his soldiers.

"Line up by squad leader! If so much as ONE toe steps out of line I will gouge out your eyes with a rusted spoon! Does that sound appealing to you, Private Steve-O?" Steve-O licked his cracked lips for a moment and replied, "Sir, yes, Sir!" Tarkov slapped his cover off of his head and growled low in his throat.

"Well any fucking time you'd like to set up this gouge session, why don't you give me a call, sweetheart! Now pick up your fucking cover and lead the run!" Steve-O rubbed the bruise forming in his buzzed brown hair and scooped up the hat, placing it back over the injury.

The company began their two mile jog to the training fields, which included obstacle courses designed for both human and pokemon, battlefields, and a lake. The jog took the soldiers through a forest of tall oak and cedar trees, and the ground was littered with damp leaves. The sun blazed through the canopy brightly, scorching the unlucky soldiers who had forgotten to apply sunscreen.

"This is a repeat after me song! The rules, for all of you dumbshits unable to understand English, are simple: When I sing a line, you repeat it! Any questions? No? Good, because I wouldn't have answered them anyway!" Hiro rolled his eyes and looked to Flaria, who was struggling next to him. He vaguely remembered Tarkov threatening the entire platoon with her failures.

"Cmon, Flaria! Keep jogging! This isn't even anything compared to later!" He hissed. Flaria, appalled that Hiro underestimated her athletic ability, turned away. How dare he question her? Tarkov inhaled sharply and began.

"I don't want no teenage queen!"

"_I don't want no teenage queen!" _The soldiers did their best to repeat in sync as they leapt over logs, rocks, and the dirt path of the forest.

"I just want the kill to be clean!"

"_I just want the kill to be clean_!"

"If I die in the combat zone!"

_"If I die in the combat zone!" _

"Then box me up and ship me home!"

_"Then box me up and ship me home!"_

"Pin my medals right on my chest!"

"_Pin my medals right on my chest!" _

"And tell my momma I've tried my best!"

"_And tell my momma I've tried my best!"_

Leading the procession was Steve-O, and next to him was Hiro, who decided to switch positions in the pack. The workout grounds were visible through the brush now, and the group subconsciously ran faster in anticipation.

XXX

"Good morning, Seals! Dress in skins and meet on the dock! Be ready to swim today!" The PA system was scratchy in the bunker, but the message was clear all the same. The members of the Sinnohian Navy grabbed their "skins" or swimsuits, whose namesake came from the lightweight and seemingly nonexistent material. Polisia changed in the head, still uncomfortable in front of Rallin. She felt a bit inadequate next to her short yet muscular roommate. Her skinny arms and legs were toned, but held no ground against his bulging biceps. Polisia plaited her long hair tight against her head, tied it with an elastic, and grabbed her aqua socks as she left the bunker. She and the other seals jogged through the metal hall, leaping over the hatches and swinging upward onto the ground-level tier.

"Are you going to eat?" Rallin asked, slowing as they passed the mess hall. Polisia shook her head.

"I vomit if I eat before I swim." She said matter-of-factly. Rallin gave her an 'are you insane?' look and snatched a bagel from the mess table. Polisia rolled her eyes.

"You'll regret it _later_." She warned the last part in a singsong voice. Rallin stared at her deliberately and shoved the entire thing in his mouth as if to challenge her accusation.

"Pig."

"Bitch."

"What?" She growled, punching his shoulder abruptly. He pretended to be hurt and was pantomiming his death when the instructor showed up.

"Ah. Good morning Rallin. I see you're 'dying' again. Well go ahead and 'die' with a three mile swim." Rallin cursed under his breath and perched on the dock's edge. The instructor waited until he crouched in the set position.

"—_After _your workout." Rallin shot a glare at Polisia, who stuck out her tongue in glee.

XXX

"GOD DAMN YOU, TAKAMACHI! GET YOUR ASS OFF OF MY OBSTACLE!" Melody screeched. Sasuke and Shaoran both released the rope ladder they were trying (and failing) to scale. The twins landed in a tangle of forest green hair and matching eyes. Melody leapt off of the wooden beam suspending the ladders and somersaulted into a neat landing. She ground her boot into the dirt, sending an irritating cloud of filth in the boys' faces.

"Why did both of you worthless idiots let go?" She asked. Sasuke, the older by three minutes, answered.

"You didn't specify, ma'am." Melody snapped her fingers and Ricochet was by her side.

"Take them to the gallows." The twins exchanged a terrified look.

"They aren't allowed to hang us, are they?" Shaoran hissed. Ricochet snapped at the heels of his black trainers, prompting him to pick it up. Shaoran adjusted his white t-shirt and shot a glare at the Zangoose, who growled throatily in reply.

"No, they can't hang us you idiot…and I wouldn't provoke that thing." Ricochet leapt up onto the wooden gallows were a set of chains were coiled in a pile. Melody followed closely, instructing the boys to remove their boots and shirts. Once the twins were barefoot and bare skinned Melody made them stand on small stepstools as Ricochet bound their ankles with rope and chains. The Zangoose worked quickly, binding the boys from ankle to knee. Melody walked to the edge of the gallows and began turning a large crank, reeling the chains in until they were taut.

"This is it? Standing here chained by the legs?" Sasuke asked incredulously. Melody shook her head in pity and yanked an enormous lever. The stools flew away as the chains snapped them upside down. The blood rushed to the twins' faces as they were dangling by their bindings.

"We'll come back for you around lunchtime. Sarcasm isn't appreciated, boys." Melody flipped her white-blond hair and leapt off of the gallows, jogging back toward the rest of the camp.

XXX

"Teddiursa! Cut back, _cut back!_" Hunter leapt for her companion, grabbed him, and tucked into a clean roll. The ground had turned muddy and thick, slicked a reddish brown from the blood. Hunter's uniform was stained as well, and the blood-soaked material clung to her lithe body. She peeked over the lip of the low mud wall she had rolled behind and ducked right back down. The blistering heat of a flamethrower had missed her head by mere centimeters. She looked down at Teddiursa, who was licking a large cut on his left palm. Hunter took the last potion from her pack and sprayed the infected wound, watching the skin pull back together and the blood clot. The Lieutenant burst from her cover and unsheathed the slim sword on her back. She swept the blade in a flawless arc to behead a Hoenn-born soldier. His simple club fell from his lifeless hand like dead weight. Hunter then tossed the blade in the air, rolled beneath an oncoming thunderbolt, and flipped to catch the sword on the other side.

"Give up now." Hunter said quietly. The trainer opposite of the Lieutenant, a red haired woman with an Electrike, shook her head and pulled a handful of kunai from a pouch on her waist.

"Kantonian bitch. Come at me!" She challenged. Hunter leapt into the tree above her, jumping from branch to branch and kicking off from the trunk of an oak, propelling her towards the fire-haired enemy. The woman flung her kunai expertly at her oncoming attacker and they sunk deep into the sides of Hunter Larsen. Hunter screeched in agony, landing a slice through her opponent's arm but missing her true target. Hunter looked down at her exposed navel and almost cried. The kunai were embedded deep into her lovely skin. Blood flowed freely from these wounds. But every second distracted was another moment given to her enemy. The woman's Electrike sent blinding bolts of electricity to her kunai in midflight—turning them into weapons of sheer fatality. Hunter only had a moment to duck. The kunai sunk into the bark of the thick eucalyptus and then exploded. The trunk split straight down the middle, sending a rain of sharp, splintered wood over the two trainers and their companions.

"Impressive." Hunter gasped. She tore off the rest of her grey t-shirt and took a strip in her mouth, biting down hard. She then snapped and Teddiursa came to her navel, carefully extracting all three knives with a practiced claw.

"Stop wasting my time! You will die _today_!" The Hoennian warrior flung kunai mercilessly, handful upon endless handful of knives hurtling toward the Kantonian Lieutenant. Thinking quickly, Hunter grabbed her blade and twisted it wildly, creating a fan-like shield. The kunai were deflected, harmless, into the surrounding area. While the redhead was catching her breath, Hunter released her entire team. She wasted no time in mounting her Tauros, taking command at the back of her personal army. The Electrike at the woman's side began shooting thunder waves toward her party—persistent to paralyze her comrades. Her Tentacruel sent torrents of frigid water at the assailant, knocking the pair down and pinning them against trees.

"Poison jab, Toxicroak! Then razor leaf, Tropius!" The redhead was coughing up water when the poisonous amphibian pounded his hand into her stomach. The rest of the trapped water shot from her red lips in a murky stream. She quickly retaliated with a gold-hilted dagger, cutting into the squishy flesh of the toad and dragging the tip down. Before she could pierce any organs flurries of sharp leaves razed her own pale skin. She covered her face weakly as her Electrike sunk its fangs into the neck of Hunter's Toxicroak. Its jaws locked and it electrocuted Toxicroak, not loosening its grip until it was sure its opponent was unconscious. The redhead yelled a cry of victory, throwing a handful of pokeballs in Hunter's direction. The green-haired Lieutenant recalled her fallen friend and sent her Torkoal on a rampage. The fire type sent a blast of white-hot flames at the faces of the other Electrike types, almost defeating them in one blast. Hunter leapt off of Tauros and into the flaming fray, sword held level with her eyes. The redhead came in slashing with the golden dagger. Her painted nails clawed wildly for Hunter's long green hair, and once her fingers found purchase she yanked Hunter to the floor. The Kantonian landed in a pile of embers, screaming as her wounds were burned, but rolled away in time to miss another stab from the dagger. This time the golden blade sheared off a huge chunk of Hunter's hair. It fell into Torkoal's fire and the stench of burning hair clouded the senses of the fighting women.

"Ariana! Where are you?" A male voice called. It came from outside of the ring of fire, and the woman turned toward the voice.

"Jonah! In here!" With the last of her depleting strength Hunter wrenched the dagger from Ariana's grasp and plunged it into her right eye. The blade entered her face as smoothly as butter would give way—and the blood from the wound stained Hunter's face and neck. The iron-and-rust taste was bitter on her tongue. Shrieking in shock, the redhead tried to remove the knife from her destroyed eye socket.

Hunter closed her eyes as she thrust her sword through Ariana's heart.

XXX

"I'm sorry for earlier." Flaria Swiftbreeze was attempting yet again to apologize to Hiro. Her shortcomings had given the half-blind boy sixty additional pushups, an extra mile of sprints, and ten pull-ups with Tarkov holding his ankles. Hiro didn't even bother acknowledging his "comrade" and continued to read his novel—_Wuthering Heights. _Flaria huffed, narrowing her golden eyes.

_How much ass kissing does this guy need? _She thought to herself. Flaria grabbed the red plastic chair and yanked it from the round table, plopping down in it and locking her eyes on the boy's face. Hiro's Jolteon stared at her oddly from the seat next to her. He ignored the blabbering girl and returned to his meal of raw meat. The electric type amused himself by shocking his dinner until it cooked.

"Hiro. Don't hate me, please. Everyone already hates me." She pleaded. She fidgeted with a loose string on her white vest. Hiro put his book down with a sharp exhale and took her in for the first time. His eyes raked over her olive skin and amber colored eyes, taking in every detail. His other senses, sharpened by the lack of vision, spotted sweat on her brow and an increase in heart rate. She was nervous. He also took notice of how she dressed—lightweight clothing with lots of flexibility. Flaria donned a white vest, which hung open and loose over a black sports bra. On her thin forearms were glittering metal arm guards, and on her legs were skin tight black capri pants. They stretched over her strong but thin legs, hugging every soft curve of her form. On her twitching feet was a pair of black leather gladiator sandals, weaving a braided pattern around her toes and beneath her arches.

"Flaria," he sighed. "If you keep messing up who here would want to befriend you?" His tone was icy and distant—Flaria could tell he wished he could be somewhere else.

"But I'm trying my hardest!" She protested. Flaria glared at his entire being—seeing his judgment of her unfair and unfit. The lines in her forehead creased—throwing the scar over her left eye into sharp relief. Hiro raised a brow and resumed reading. Trying to calm herself, she felt the familiar mask of reserve she usually wore over her emotions. It dulled her anger and allowed her to view Hiro completely.

The boy's hair defied gravity (probably with the excessive use of hair gel) and his attire was practical yet unique. On his wrists were billions of bracelets—ranging from the simple weave to the bright and vibrant. His eyes she was familiar with, as she was caught numerous times studying them. His left was the familiar cloudy blue, and his right was warm and brown. He wore a loose grey v-neck over his skinny frame, and on his wiry legs were tight black drainpipes tucked into equally black combat boots.

"Just stop fucking it up for the rest of us, please. The guys aren't on your side yet—but maybe you should try allying with the females before approaching us. We aren't that eager to be here, if you haven't noticed." He turned the page and blinked up at her, waiting for a reply.

"Fuck off, Hiro."

"Time and place, babe, I'll be there." His smirk splayed widely across his mouth and Flaria's anger peaked. She stomped out of the mess hall with a scowl on her face, and a growing distaste for a certain bracelet-wearing recruit.

XXX

**Here's a short chappie! **

**Tell me what you think ! Reviews only make me better. **

**Much love, Katie. **


	5. Fistful of Cyanide

**Here's the next installment. **

**Thanks for reading and PLEASE REVIEW/RECOMMEND TO YOUR FRENS.**

**Loves and Kissies.**

**To be honest, it's soo much easier to write LOAS than C.C.**

**A scary thought, I know.**

**Review and enjoy please :D **

**XXX**

"Welcome to your final day of recruitment, maggots!" Melody Kirkland screeched. As usual, she was waking the soldiers up hours before dawn. She spent an extra minute harassing Ipsa Malik, who could never wake on the first try.

"GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE! GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED BEFORE I PUT IT THROUGH THE MEAT GRINDER!" the Lieutenant roared. Ipsa rubbed the sleep from her chocolate-and-almond colored eyes before yawning.

"Is it time for breakfast?" she mumbled. Melody let out a cajoling laugh and snapped her fingers. Ricochet, Melody's long time Zangoose companion, grabbed Ipsa by her left leg and yanked. Ipsa fell to the floor with a dull thud.

"All of you pukes better get to the mess hall in five seconds. We're on breakfast duty this morning and if my scrambled eggs are chewy there will be hell to pay." Melody narrowed her ice blue eyes, pivoted on a polished leather boot, and marched from the barrack.

The Sinnohian soldiers scattered from their bunks then, adjusting their hair, throwing on uniforms, and locking their footlockers. The company then rushed into the mess hall, took aprons from the laundry crate, and set to work. Rows upon rows of toasters, frying pans, and griddles were in use, popping out toast, bacon, and eggs within minutes.

"Why are we on cooking detail? I suck at cooking!" Alex Winters growled. His brown choppy hair had been shoved into a too-small hairnet, and the crisscross netting made grooves in his tanned forehead. He shrieked in pain when Talyn accidentally knocked over a pan of bacon, launching the crispy, oily strips onto his forearm.

"Dammit, Tally!" he cried. Talyn Lynch clapped a hand to her mouth apologetically. Her chestnut brown hair was plaited to her head, and this was piled into a hairnet as well. Her Ariados crawled over her shoulder to help Alex to his feet. He swept from the kitchen to the infirmary, peeling chunks of skin off as he went.

XXX

"Today, you motherfuckers are no longer scumbags. You've all been promoted to Kantonian Soldiers. You have earned the right to fight under our beautiful flag." General Tarkov congratulated each recruit with a small diploma and a nameplate. Hiro took his "H. Taminama" plate and pinned it over his heart. He then returned to his seat next to Steve-O, who had become his best friend over the past three weeks. Steve-O pinned his "S. Odon" onto his uniform and smiled at Hiro.

"You are now a Kantonian Soldier, and you will forever be a Kantonian Soldier. Wherever you go, whoever you meet, you will _be a Kantonian Soldier. _It's an honor I can only bestow to those who are worthy. And I will have to admit—you all are worthy." General Tarkov saluted the new recruits and wiped away what looked like the smallest tear.

"Your entire squadron will be launched into Sinnoh territory in a week's time. Go home, say your goodbyes, and report back to base no later than Friday morning." the newly-turned soldiers saluted their senior drill sergeant and exited the award ceremony. Hiro and Steve-O skipped lunch and went straight to the barracks—eager to get out of the stifling uniforms and to get home. Hiro heaved his footlocker out from under his bunk and began stuffing what little personal items he had back into the backpack he came with. Jolteon snoozed idly at the foot of his bunk. Steve-O's Aipom wasn't sleepy—Aipom took to swinging from bunk to bunk.

"So you're going home to Saffron, then?" Hiro asked, placing his copy of _The Heart of Darkness_ inside the backpack's front pocket.

"Yeah. I have to see my mum. God knows she hates me, but I don't care. She'll make me some tuna or something." Steve-O shrugged nonchalantly and recalled Aipom from his makeshift jungle gym.

"I have to see my mom, too. She can't stand any of this. She'd never forgive me if I didn't come back." Their quiet moment of reflection was broken by the rest of the recruits coming in. Flaria Swiftbreeze, whose bunk was directly above Hiro's, gave him a steely glare as she swung herself up. Their relationship had only deteriorated throughout the last weeks of training.

_Flaria spilled her food in the mess hall, was last in every training session, and couldn't fight to save her life. One day, Tarkov had set up a sparring pit out in the fields. The two fighters were faced off on a foot-wide board that was around twenty feet long. The board was raised above a pit of frigid water, kept cold by the occasional ice beam of one of the academy pokemon. _

_"Taminama, take a staff and get up there! You too, Swiftbreeze! And do NOT DISAPPOINT ME." Flaria tied back her black and red hair and gulped. She detested Hiro. He had gotten so mad at her for no reason! Was it her fault that Tarkov made them all do fifty-five up-downs every time Flaria came last in drills?_

_Well….maybe…_

_But that didn't give him the right to cuss her out! Or glare at her! She grabbed the wooden stave from Tarkov with a shaky hand and walked up the stairs to the platform. Hiro stood there at the other side, retying his black pokeball bandana around his head. He looked up at her, and the expression of discontent was even evident in his blind eye. Her legs were shaking and her throat went dry. Hiro advanced toward her, spinning the staff like a circus ringmaster spins a cane. She held up her staff just in time to block the first hit. It didn't knock her off the plank like it usually did. It dawned on her that Hiro was going easy. Enraged, Flaria ripped the ribbon from her hair and let it fall free, spinning on the thin board and landing a hit on Hiro's left shoulder. He couldn't see it coming. Hiro exhaled sharply and brought the stave up and under, thrusting the wooden staff straight into Flaria's chest. She felt the bruise swelling on her sternum as she stumbled backward. Hiro, who hardly ever showed mercy, swept out Flaria's legs with a simple swipe of the stave. The female recruit slipped and slammed the beam with her hip before crashing into the icy pool twenty feet below. The two had not spoken since. _

XXX

The trip to Celadon City did not take long. Hiro hopped onto Charizard's back and was home in an hour and a half. He landed in the front yard and greeted his mother's Gardevoir, who was picking herbs from the garden. At the swing of their iron front gate, a rustling could be heard inside.

"Hiro! Is that you?" the voice of his mother was pained and desperate. Hiro felt his stomach fall into his knees as his mother threw open the door. Her hair was clean, sure, but it wasn't in her usual immaculate bun. It was down in a careless style. Dark circles rimmed his mother's chocolate eyes, and the only sign of life left was in the smile that split Nozomi Taminama's face.

"My Hiro! Oh, I thought I'd never see you again!" she nearly tackled her son's midsection and breathed in the familiar scent of her "baby boy". Tears brimmed in her eyes as she met the irregular gaze of Hiro.

"Are you home to stay? Please tell me they're not shipping you off already…" she bit her lip in anticipation. The false hope on her face was so evident the words stung as they left Hiro's mouth.

"Yes, mom, I'm leaving Friday morning. They're sending me to Jubilife City. The town is a war zone now, and one of Sinnoh's greatest strongholds." Nozomi nodded tersely and moved back to the table, where Hiro assumed she had spent most of her recent time.

"Mom, why aren't you going to book club? Or to work, for that matter?" he saw her identification card hanging from the nail by the door with a thin film of dust on it.

"I quit my job."

"You _what?_" Hiro was dumbstruck. "What possessed you to _quit your job?_"

"The war is coming here, Hiro! It's time to move! I'm moving in with your Aunt Yuki in Pallet Town. That little area is so remote and far from the fight that there won't be any chance of you not having a place to come home to, if that makes sense." Hiro took a look around their home. The house he grew up in, the place where his entire family once lived…now was being packed away in cardboard boxes. Upon closer examination, his mother was throwing out all of his sister's things. His father's things, too.

"What the hell? Mom, you're trashing Shizune's stuff?_ Dad's stuff?_ How could you?" the accusatory tone his voice held was pained.

"There's no room in Shizune's apartment. Times are changing, Hiro. It's time for us all to move on." Hiro couldn't believe his ears. Anger rose within the young soldier and he took the box with Shizune's things.

"Well, mom, if you're giving up on this family, fine. But don't throw away their stuff." Hiro growled. His mother rolled his eyes and downed the tea in her jade cup in one gulp.

"This fight has drained me…I'm done fighting it. I don't want to lose what little family I have left. Let's face it, just you and me. Yuki is my sister, sure, but does she ever act like family? Never. So if you expect me to be blown to bits in this house, well I hate to disappoint you but I'm not going to let that happen. I'm leaving Saturday before Sinnohian forces blow Celadon to the ground."

"What makes you think they'll destroy Celadon, mom?"

"Try the fact that Celadon is the largest untouched city left in Kanto! Hundreds of refugees from the Saffron City fires have come here!"

"Saffron City fires? You mean Saffron has fallen?" his mother raised a thin yet tired brow.

"Yes, my love. Saffron has fallen. So that Steve-O friend you say lives in Saffron? I'm not sure he has a home anymore." she rose from the table and moved toward the fridge, letting her hair fall in her face as she yanked out the freezer drawer in the bottom. He saw a box of strawberry shortcake popsicles—his sister's favorite. Nozomi Taminama still bought them—it was just another thing his mother did—a way to remind herself that they still could be kept alive. Hiro used to eat three or four in a day, which used to infuriate Shizune. Hiro grabbed the box and offered one to his mom.

She looked into his eyes and started to cry.

Just one time, an ice cream for mom.

Hiro and his mother shared a silent dessert together, watching the sunset over Celadon for what could've been the last time.

XXX

At the marine base in Sinnoh, there were no visits home. Polisia Marui wrote letters to her sister, who she missed dearly, and wrote letters to her mother, who would never receive them. She touched the sapphire pendant that hung in the hollow of her throat. It matched her newly-dyed hair perfectly. She rolled over in her metal framed bunk to Rallin, who was lying stock-still in his bed.

"Sore from your swim?" she tried to suppress the creeping laughter in her voice. Rallin's muscles were so overworked he could only narrow his golden eyes into slits.

"Shut up, Marui. You're just jealous you won't be as ripped as me. Besides, you can't even rock the blue hair like I can. Beeitch." he shut his eyes to indicate that the conversation was over. She smiled wider, deciding to push his buttons a bit more. Polisia threw her legs over the railing and jumped from her bunk, landing near Rallin on two feet. She bent over his tense face and let the hair fall over his features. Her long blue hair tickled his nose, eliciting a series of sneezes and more grumbling.

"Polisia, stop! God dammit!" his eyes narrowed until the female Hoennian thought his eyes were shut.

"You're so moody. If you unclenched your ass every once in awhile, maybe you'd smile a bit." Polisia crossed the room to pull out her trunk and removed a sketchpad. She idly doodled until Rallin rolled over to address her.

"Unclench my ass?"

"_That_ was delayed." Polisia didn't look up from her caricature of her Frosslass.

"Well just wait Polisia Marui…I'll unclench my ass." the ominous tone flew straight over Polisia's head, and she rolled her eyes before shaking in mock terror.

"Be sure to call me when you do. I'll want to record it."

XXX

Night fell across the land, and Mr. X returned from a recent raid in Twinleaf Town. He had set fire to the fuel supplies, but not without pouring a couple canisters into the city's aquifer.

"These effers aren't going to be thirsty if I have anything to say about it." Mr. X's Gengar cackled his approval and moved to help. From his black leather belt sprung his Zangoose, who raked her claws across mounds of crops, overturning irrigation systems and assisting Mr. X's Gallade in destroying the agriculture of the town.

Once the deed was done, they all escaped on Mr. X's trusted Skarmory. While his metallic wings sliced the silent night, he reflected on the terror he had become.

He started first with the synthetic arm attached to his left shoulder. It was only one reminder of his "life path." Mr. X, or more formally known as Aderien Xavier, was born to poor parents and a difficult life. His father was murdered at a young age, and a killer a few years afterward made ten year old Aderien an orphan.

The monks of Sprout Tower took him in, taught him their ways, and sent him out into the world with a new Abra. He soon honed his skills in killing, and became the most sought-after assassin once the war broke out. His reputation spread like the fires he burned cities with, relentlessly and across great distances. One job, the rescue mission where he lost his arm, united him with the love of his life—Jen Masari. She was the daughter of a rich scientist in cybernetics, and after he had saved the fair damsel, her father reconstructed a full-functioning bionic arm. He hid his secret with a black trench coat and equally dark gloves.

Yet even this small shred of happiness would be taken from Aderien. A few short years after the birth of his daughter, Lily, both Jen and the child were murdered in cold blood. The culprits, none other than the Sinnohian-allying Team Rocket, have become Aderien's prime target. Any morals he might have had have been drowned in a river of blood. Team Rocket blood. Their gradual disappearances and casualties due to "unexplainable circumstances" have all been the work of the heartbroken Mr. X.

_In their memory,_ he thought, _Sinnoh burns._

XXX

Friday morning rolled along, and soldiers in Kanto and Sinnoh alike retreated from their homes and into the compounds of their respective region. Flaria raced back from Blackthorn City and her home with Claire, the local gym leader. The Dragon-type trainer took Flaria in from her infanthood, wiped her clean of dirt and fear and raised her tough. Flaria resolved that she and Flare, her trusted Arcanine, wouldn't stand for the bullshit her platoon mates were giving her. She was Flaria Swiftbreeze, raised around Dragon pokemon and a woman who was ruthless and relentless in battle. Just like Flaria would grow to be. When she arrived home for a few short days, Claire recolored Flaria's red-tipped hair, gave her a new set of kunai knives, and sent Flaria and all of her pokemon to a day spa.

_That woman is too nice to me_… she thought, sliding off Flare's silky fur and recalling her partner into his pokeball. She almost bumped into Reach Venley, known commonly as R, a fellow platoon mate in 3487. The boy was of average height, who hid his muscular strength beneath a baggy uniform and slouched posture. He was vain of his blond hair, which he let grow in a wild mane halfway to his shoulders. His pale skin framed the chocolate-and-honey irises set dead center in his face. One could often find twigs or leaves tangled in his mane, as he trained tirelessly, but it wasn't advised to comment on it. He was touchy in that way.

Flaria almost tripped over R's beige trench coat, which covered a loose black t-shirt and standard military-issue pants. His combat boots were laced sloppily, the multi-fiber weave jutting out and knotting in the most unattractive of patterns. Regardless, R's raw handsomeness offset his deceptive appearance.

R noticed Flaria's persistent stares and his eyes widened in fear—he dreaded talking to girls. They were too complex, impossible to approach, and downright moody. He'd rather curl up in his bunk for weeks than risk humiliating himself in front of a girl. Specifically, a girl like Flaria. He had harbored a tiny crush—really, an infinitesimal feeling—for her throughout the weeks spent in boot camp. Yet what R didn't understand is how could he jump blindly into a bloody war, when he couldn't even muster the courage to say hello to a girl?

_The way war contradicts itself is fascinating_, R thought, shaking his head slowly and entering the brick threshold of Fort Vermilion. Waiting in the lobby inside were the other squad mates of 3487—Hiro, Steve-O, Miles Matlock, Adele Dittmar, and a few other new faces. The newest had to be their new platoon leader, a 21 year old flash fire named Adriana Baptista. She took a long drag from a burned down cigarette and blew the smoke straight in Tarkov's face. The old general's cheeks burned hot scarlet in anger.

"Do you feel like pissing me off today, Baptista? Remember you're only a Captain." his words were curt and venomous. Adriana laughed half-heartedly, flipping her hair to reveal the nameplate on her chest. Instead of A. Baptista, the name simply read "Rex". The platoon would later learn that Rex was Adriana's nickname, given to her by her old troop due to her endless love for the band "T-rex". The name has stuck ever since.

"Good morning once more, privates. Today," he reached over to the eastern wall of the lobby and tore down a map of Sinnoh from the mounted scroll. "You will attack Sandgem town and secure the Pokemon Lab there. Intelligence has informed me that a Professor Rowan is developing a new type of pokemon that will destruct like a bomb."

"Sort of like a voltorb?" Adele Dittmar interjected. Tarkov considered this and shook his head.

"Not exactly, Dittmar. Voltorb, Electrode, and other pokemon that know the move self-destruct can always recover at a nearby pokemon center. These pokemon are mutated, bred solely to explode into tiny, bloody, bits." a few of the female recruits (and a couple of the males) gulped in dread.

"But not to worry, because you're all going to infiltrate and destroy the threat at its sorce. Obliterate the lab." a collective "Sir, yes, sir!" echoed off the walls of the Kanto compound, signaling their surrender to their first mission.

XXX

Reactions in the Sinnohian barracks were similar. Kantonian soldiers were mobilizing, rumors told, and their job was to defend.

"The attack is anticipated within the next three days." Melody Kirkland said, enunciating her words with a slap of a yardstick against the giant calendar on the southern wall of the mess hall. Her Lieutenant's badge shone in the fluorescent lights, momentarily distracted the already-dreamy Ipsa Malik.

"Malik! Are you even listening?" the incredulous eyes of Lieutenant Kirkland narrowed into dangerous slits, her body language screaming a warning to the young Native American. Malik fumbled for an answer and Melody cut her off mid-sentence.

"Don't lie to me. That's the kind of bullshit that gets people killed. Are you going to lie to me if I ask if there are enemies over a hill? Inside a building? If you have an extra weapon when I'm out? You better pray to Arceus you don't, or you'll burn in hell with the rest of the Kantonian scum." with that scalding upbraiding, she continued the debriefing of their mission.

"Kantonians will eat you up and shit you out like yesterday's breakfast. You think we're tough here? Sure, we're strong and smart, but let's face it, most of you pussies get nauseous when you look at blood. Those sons of bitches over there eat that shit for breakfast." the stunned faces of troop 461 were all the affirmations Melody needed for her statement.

"You're damn right I'm sure. I've seen those motherfuckers do things to your fellow Sinnohian that'll make you cry just by hearing it. I don't ever want to hear complaints about those low lives; I'll only accept confirmed kills. We may not be as disgusting or as ruthless, but damn it, we fight smarter, not harder. So if you come home in a pine box with a medal pinned to your cold, dead, heart… wherever you end up after your shortened life, you better hope I don't find you when I join you someday." she directed the line of soldiers to the supply barrack, to receive their forty-pound backpacks and load in the helicopters that would shuttle them to their fate.

XXX


	6. Razed

**Streaming right on ahead. **

**Thanks to:**

**Twilight- The Moon Spirit, Ein Storm, I didn't Kill the Queen, meri47, Yereton, iR4wr, sjshark23, and WindyRain for reviewing. **

**You guys keep it real.**

**So here's the next chap!**

**XXX**

Hiro tired of riding in the Kantonian Army helicopters, so he unbuckled his harness and pulled a pokeball out of his pack. He tossed it outside of the open cabin and his trusted Charizard roared in relief. The beast stretched his great wings and waited for his master to follow. Hiro took two steps and leaped, landing right between Charizard's wing joints.

"Taminama, damn you! Get back in the cabin!" Rex shrieked. Hiro turned a knob on his headset, muting the audio controls. He shrugged his shoulders and pantomimed his "inability" to hear her. Rex flipped him off and returned to looking at a small map of Sinnoh. Troop 3487 had been travelling for two days, stopping only once to make camp in a small forest in the Johto Region. The sun was setting over the Hoennian sky, igniting the endless horizon with hues of red, orange, and a striking yellow. Jolteon pawed at his master's arm—and gestured to the storm on the horizon. From the streaked clouds and dark, billowing mist, it was easy to say a storm was coming. A big one.

The coming peril enticed Steve-O to join his fellow comrade. Steve-O hurtled his Pidgeot's pokeball out in the open air, leaping before his avian companion had materialized. His timing was impeccable, as he was situated comfortably just as Pidgeot appeared. The two rolled beneath the helicopter and leveled out beside Hiro, Jolteon and Charizard. The two exchanged a high-five and pressed forward toward the clouds. Their lack of inhibition alarmed the Captain inside.

"Venley! Tell your fellow idiots that it's time to get inside the fucking copter! I need all the bodies they've given me if we plan on destroying this lab." with a discontented groan, R unbuckled the clasps on his seat and released his Aerodactyl. The ancient beast, most likely resurrected from an ageless fossil, fanned her enormous wings and the couple caught up with Steve-O and Hiro.

R waved his arms frantically to get the two boys' attention and signaled to move back into the cabin. Hiro rolled his eyes and pulled back, hopping into the helicopter with a disgruntled glare. Steve-O followed suit and sat in R's seat, buckling the harness before the reserved recruit could even protest. R instead growled under his breath and grabbed an overhanging harness which required the user to stand. The helicopters flew straight into the thunderstorms, and the radio interference was so bad all transmission was cut. The heavens flashed with bolts of lightning, and the thunder clapped with a noise so strong it left ears ringing. A bolt came so close to the helicopter Flaria's hair fried into a static mess.

Rex scrambled over her seat and into the cockpit to talk with the pilot.

"How far are we? It's too dangerous to keep going!" she shouted over the howl of the wind.

"Don't worry, Rex! We're about ten miles from the Sinnoh Region! We'll take you down and you'll have to walk from here!" came the reply. Rex nodded and relayed the instructions to her squadron. The helicopter descended, navigating the harsh currents and the threat of lightning with some difficulty. Yet they emerged from the cloud cover and landed in an open field. The wheat-colored grass whipped wildly from the force of the helicopter, and one by one the Kantonian Soldiers jumped into the field until the cabin had been emptied. They saluted the pilots and the helicopter left. At ground level, the storm was nothing more than heavy rain and wind. The lightning and thunder still loomed above them, but their true threat had been reduced substantially as they lost altitude.

"All right, everyone! Sinnoh, and Twinleaf Town, are about ten miles from here. We're in Hoenn, obviously, and we need to watch out for Sinnoh sympathizers. They're about as neutral to this war as I am." the odd phrasing was lost by the recruits, and Rex sighed heavily and began walking. The grasses of whatever field they trespassed was around waist-high, making the walk for the shorter recruits, like Flaria, a difficult one. She unsheathed the kodachis at her hips and began slicing the long stalks in short, angry strokes. Her "landscaping" put her in the back of the pack.

Hiro and Steve-O were trailing Rex and R, and it wasn't long before Miles T. Matlock joined them. Miles, who always insisted on everyone calling him by his full name, had a body style similar to Hiro's. He was tall but lean, with dexterous fingers that twitched at times. His eyes were as unique as the blind boy's as well—his sclera were as black as night. As far as his skin went, he was slightly tanned, and it contrasted well with his spiked ashen hair. His specialty was knives. On his hip was a short sword—yet this was merely for show. The real fun were the spring-loaded throwing knives up the sleeves of his blue coat, the poisoned blades strapped to his wrists, and the blunt daggers situated on his lower back.

"Hello, Miles T. Matlock. How're you today?" Steve-O inquired, trying to wrestle his Aipom away from the food in his pack. Miles sighed and was noncommittal with a shoulder shrug.

"Cool. Well, I'm bored as shit."

"Same." Hiro said dejectedly.

"Shut your whining back there or I'll flay you all." Rex snarled, whirling on them in a fiery rage. "I am getting so sick of your talking! If someone hears us, we'll be attacked. If there is one goddamned casualty I'll have your balls."

"Please do," Steve-O chortled. "they're _way_ too big to handle right now." Rex's murky green eyes darkened significantly and her short blonde hair flew when she slapped him.

"I'm not gonna stand for your shit, O'don. You do it my way, or the high way." she pointed to the road, which cut through the fields around 400 yards away.

Steve-O nursed his stinging cheek and muttered a slew of curses until they stopped to set up camp at the foot of the forest.

XXX

James Curtis finally made it back to the Johto Air Base alive. He was sweaty, bleeding, and in desperate need of a stiff drink. The brown-haired boy staggered through the front office doors in tatters, and collapsed at the receptionist's desk.

"James. Nice to see you." the woman, Venice Drawden, had been a close friend of James' for years. His random appearances—bloody or not—never seemed to phase her. She calmly hooked her dark hair behind her ear and picked up the white phone on her desk.

"Yes, Commander? I've got Curtis here. He's back. Yes, his pants are on. Okay, good." she set down the receiver and crouched to help James to his feet. "You poor thing. I've got a stretcher coming to pick your fine behind up in a second." Venice brushed the tiniest coat of dust off his filthy uniform, and although it did nothing to improve the state of his clothes, James appreciated it all the same. He was about to thank her when his Commander burst through the double doors.

"Curtis! Where in the hell have you been!" he made a beeline for the young bombardier and grabbed him by what was left of his collar. James, whose bones were broken and body exhausted, was dangling like a rag doll. He squeezed his blue eyes shut and braced himself for the roaring lecture that was to come.

"I've been trying to get information, like you asked, sir."

"My ass. Have you been lollygagging? Hitting up some whores in the Sinnoh Region? Where the fuck did you park your plane, private?" James coughed up a spray of blood and the Commander laughed—it was a mocking sound.

"Well?"

"It's g-gone sir. Exploded, in a raid slash rescue sort of thing." the commander was speechless for a moment, then took no time in dropping James' body. He hit the floor with a sickening thud and passed out.

When he opened his eyes, he was greeted by scorching bright lights and the smell of gauze. His brain registered that he was in the wounded ward, and was relieved to realize he was still alive. A look to his left told him it was now late afternoon, and a look to his right brought him face to face with John Yossarian. A legend in bombardier history, he flew thirty missions and was still counting. The chart above his bed read that he was complaining of a high fever and an upset liver—and also that he had been in the hospital for a few weeks now. Yossarian looked over at James with cold brown eyes and raised a brow.

"What're you looking at, you racist?"

"R-racist?" James was incredulous.

"Yes, you racist. With your white skin and all." he licked the ballpoint pen in his hand and continued scratching out line upon line of the letters in his lap. When captains and other officials were hospitalized, the Johto Air Force thought it too idle to let them sit in bed for weeks. So they made them censor letters that were on their way to mothers, lovers, family and friend alike.

"You're a madman. You're white too, asshole!" Yossarian gave James a startled look and laughed so hard fat tears squeezed from his eyes.

"Shit, kid. Just wait till they have you crossing out love letters. Then you'll see who's really racist around here." with a flourish of his pen he put an enormous "X" through the entire script. James' eyes widened and he was suddenly fearful for his own sanity. Today Yossarian had declared death to all verbs, and with his black pen he turned harmless penmanship into an indecipherable code. If James' top priority was gathering information, he dreaded the day where he would wage war on nouns, adverbs, and adjectives as well.

XXX

Melody Kirkland mobilized her troop and led them from Fort Solaceon toward Twinleaf. Those citizens, and more importantly, the experimental lab, needed their protection. She and her Reverse World War veteran Cameron Torvenal pressed through a long stretch of eucalyptus trees with the soldiers behind them. They were discussing the quickest attack routes while their underlings sang.

"_Have gun, will travel reads the card of a man!" _

"The road is too obvious, and the forest is too obvious. Unless we take from the air…" Melody sighed and rubbed her temple with a delicate hand.

"The air? Torvenal, are you serious? _From the air?"_ Cameron reassessed his statement and blushed slightly.

_"A night without armor in a savage land!"_

"It was only a thought, Kirkland."

"Noted. Just seeing if your simple processing skills still malfunction." the ghost of a mirthless smirk flashed across her face.

"_His fast gun for hire heeds the calling wind_! _A soldier of fortune is a man called…Paladin_!"

Cameron ignored her haughty attitude and instead turned to his trusted Yanmega. The two conversed in their own kind of language until they reached a secluded area of the forest. Here Melody established camp and immediately assigned tasks.

"Malik, firewood! Evans, Lynch! Get the tent rolls, and get them up now. You two! Bryant siblings, get your asses on cooking detail before I keel over with starvation! Takamachi twins, feed the pokemon!" she and Ricochet, her Zangoose, rolled logs in a loose circle to form benches under the thick canopy. The Zangoose thrust her claws into the soft earth and dug an enormous fire pit in the center of the logs.

With the blaze roaring, Eric and Addie Bryant set to preparing a large stew. They took beef stock and "crisp" vegetables from their freeze-dried states and threw them in a large collapsible pot. The older of the siblings, Eric, wiped sweat from his short brown hair and itched the scar running from his right ear to kiss the corner of his mouth. He had stripped his army-issue button shirt and wore a white t-shirt, stretched over his muscles and barely covering the Disturbed fists tattoo on his right shoulder. His sister, a year younger than his 19, assisted her fast-paced Lucario in arranging coal-baked corn on the edges of the fire pit. Her hair hung to her shoulders, chocolate in color, and was tamed by a black bandana tied to her forehead. Another bandana was wound around her bicep.

The twins, Sasuke and Shaoran, complained about their duty loudly. The hordes of pokemon lined up for their meals were enough to send Shaoran into a smarting migraine. To distract from the pain, he looks to his female recruits. Ipsa had just come back with more firewood—how she chopped it all and carried it was still unknown. She was flanked by her flying pokemon: Togekiss, Pidgeot, Staraptor, and Honchkrow. The four companions loyally helped their master carry the mass of wood they had collected. Across the way were Talyn and Rico. Talyn, with her chesnut hair and lithe body, was feminine and feline in every aspect. He almost salivated when she bent over to untie more tent rolls. Sasuke, noticing that his amount of help had all but diminished, yanked Shaoran by the collar of his red shirt and growled fiercely.

"You. Help. Me. Now." he released his twin and Shaoran rubbed his neck in mock hurt.

Across the fire were Rico "Diamond" Evans, the boy with white blond hair and an indestructible legend, and Talyn Lynch, who sported her Spinarak at all times. He took to perching beneath her long waves of sweet-smelling hair. The two had quietly been constructing the line of tents for the last half-hour, and neither could find a reason to break the silence. Until Diamond saw Shaoran's nose bleeding at the sight of Talyn's low cut top.

"Tally, someone's got the hots for your tits." Diamond wasted no time with sugarcoating. A furious blush colored Talyn's cheeks as she snapped back, "Shaoran? He's got the hots for anyone's tits. Your tits, for that matter!" she gestured to Rico's shirtless state and he smirked and shook his head.

"Not a chance, love. Try not to be molested tonight, eh? I head Melody's mixing up everyone for sleeping arrangements." Talyn punched Diamond in the arm with enough force to knock a Tauros cold. Diamond sprawled over a newly-erected tent and fell face first into the dirt.

"Whose tits are nice now, bitch?" she screamed. A hush fell over the camp as innumerable pairs of eyes settled on a mortified female recruit.

XXX

Back at the edge of Sinnoh's forests, a small circle of tents were put up to house the soldiers of troop 3487. Their fire was substantially smaller, as dinner had already passed, and now the group proceeded with numerous drinking games. Rex lit up a cigarette and took a long drag before finally giving in to their requests—under the conditions she could join.

"None of you little pricks can drink _me_ under the table!" she jabbed a manicured thumb back at herself and pulled three bottles of vodka from her pack. Hiro noticed suspiciously this is where water canteens would go.

"This woman's got her priorities straight!" Steve-O whispered in his ear. Hiro laughed and took a swig from a flask of his own. Vodka was good, sure, but he wasn't sure about taking drinks from Rex. Her liquor was white and probably unfiltered, and Arceus only knew if it was stolen or store-bought.

"Name of the game is God Save the Queen, bitches!" Rex whipped out a shot glass from the recesses of her grey hoodie. Flaria took it and slammed it on the table along with two quarters.

"The fuck? Isn't it just quarters?" a soldier named Jaden Namikaze asked. The newbie was fresh from high school, not a day older than seventeen. He wore a black t-shirt with a fire emblem on the front and red goggles on his forehead, almost obscuring his dark brown hair underneath. Regardless of dress, he was good at God Save the Queen, as they would find out in mere moments.

"Quarters, God Save the Queen, who gives a shit? All I know is you pussies don't have the guts—_literally—_to out drink me!" Rex boasted. Adele rolled her eyes and watched the game from a quiet distance. Rex explained the rules in a practiced tone—as if she had gone over them a thousand times.

"It's the same game no matter what you call it. This here is a quarter. Back where I used to live, the coins had a Queen's face on them, so whenever you sunk a quarter, you had to 'save the queen' from drowning. Anyways, you bounce a quarter off the table and into the glass, you pick whoever has to drink." an air of agreement spread about the troop and the game began. Flaria went first, missing the shot by mere centimeters, Hiro, who had no depth perception, bounced it clear over the glass. Jaden, who loudly spoke of beginner's luck, sunk the quarter without batting an eye. He pointed at Rex to drink. Their commanding officer downed the burning liquid as smooth and as sweet as she would warm milk.

After a couple rounds of loud swearing, a broken nail, and sexual jokes, everyone had excused themselves but Jaden and Rex.

"You ready to lose, old lady?" he taunted, winking a mahogany colored eye at her. Rex raised a patchy brow and laughed.

"Old lady? Whatever happened to, 'with age comes experience'?"

"Oh sure, I'm into the whole cougar thing. Who doesn't want to buy a used car?" his sarcasm increased in intensity as he downed the next shot. He took it a step further by running his tongue along the rim of Rex's shot glass.

"Ew, perv, if you wanted to molest my stuff, my tent's over there, just don't touch my beer gear that way." she kept her lit cigarette bit between her teeth as she swallowed another mouthful of vodka.

"Getting tipsy, you greasy little fuck? How much hair gel do you use in one sitting? I swear to god, your effing hair defies gravity. That's against nature, you whore." as Rex's speech slurred, her eyes stayed sharp and alert. She was testing how much this poor kid could abuse his liver.

But Jaden played right back for about a minute, until his two hours of bragging came back up in a wave of bile and shame.

XXX

Jolteon and Hiro bedded down between Steve-O and Flaria, who was already asleep in a tangle of red and black hair. Steve-O and his Aipom were chewing toothpaste pills idly beside them.

"Did you ever get to see your mom, man?" Hiro asked. Steve-O shook his head.

"Got to talk to her on the phone a couple times. Word is our house is a pile of ashes now." he bites his thumbnail for a moment, as if imagining the wreckage.

"I feel for you, man. You must miss her." Steve-O shook his head immediately.

"Nah, she hates me. I don't even know if she loves me. Probably 'cause I look just like Pop." Steve-O pulled a carefully folded picture out of his wallet and handed it to Hiro, who studied the small family for a brief moment. He was right. Steve-O and his father were exact copies, differing only in their amount of wrinkles and facial hair.

"I look like my Dad, too." the two recruits sat through a moment of silence as Hiro handed him back the picture, rolled over in his sleeping bag, and ran his hand through Jolteon's slightly static fur until he fellasleep.

XXX

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	7. Death's Doorstep

**Blah blah blah LOAS!**

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**XXX**

The dawn brought no hints of sunshine or warm weather. Even for October, the temperature was colder than normal. Rex and her soldiers rose early, rolled up their tents, and were on their way. They silently traversed the Sinnohian forests until the lights of Twinleaf Town were in view.

"We need cover." Rex whispered. They huddled in the confines of the forest for another debriefing. Rex pulled a small, square device from the pocket of her cargo pants. When she clicked a button on the side, a three-dimensional map of the area appeared as a holograph.

"Wait. The only path to Sandgem are through the trainer routes! There will be civilians for sure..." R spoke up suddenly. The thought of killing innocent people, let alone people at all, sickened the blonde boy a bit. When pairs of surprised eyes fell upon his face he began blushing beet red. Steve-O clapped him on the back and exclaimed loudly about his agreement with R.

"You're right. We should go above or around Twinleaf. My vote is around." Flaria said, reaching into the holograph and rotating it a few degrees. "The east side is clear." General noises of assent permeated the platoon and they continued their trek. Flaria walked ahead with Rex and they dove into their pasts. Behind them walked Adele Dittmar. Her body was compact, standing at a medium height of five feet and five inches. Her skin was olives, a tone slightly lighter than Hiro's, and was accented with mousy brown hair that was cropped at her throat. It was parted straight down the crown of her head. Bloodstained brass knuckles contrasted sharply with her combat fatigues, which were almost as soiled as her narrow brown boots.

Adele wielded a tarnished pair of brass knuckles, which rested on her thin fingers, and looked at them as she walked over rocks and the forest floor. They had seen a lot, those knuckles. Survived her childhood. The death of her baby brother, Henrik. And now, she hoped, they would survive this war.

XXX

The Sinnohian soldiers marched through their countryside, clad in their uniforms and brandishing their weapons. Although they took the main roads, the amount of civilian contact was surprisingly low. No one seemed to want to come outside once they saw the army flags marching toward them. Melody and Cameron were twenty feet ahead of the troop, walking with Ricochet and Yanmega. Their recruits behind them marched in single file, alongside one of their respective pokemon. Thunder clapped in the skies and Melody's blonde brows narrowed.

"Storm's comin'." Rico called.

Sounds of dissent echoed from the troop. Melody waved her hand sharply, her command for them to shut up, and approached the edge of the forests surrounding Sandgem.

"They're close. I can smell them." Cameron growled. Yanmega buzzed his agreements and flew ahead to investigate. After a short time they arrived in the fields. The tall grasses whipped and swayed with the wind that kicked up, and there were no disturbances on the horizon.

On the other side of the fields, the Kantonian troop was lying in wait.

"Let's just attack! We need to catch them off guard!" Flaria hissed, pulling back her red and black hair into a sloppy bun. "We're wasting time here. It's practically a face off."

Rex shot her a scorching glare that told her to stay quiet and follow orders. Hiro unsheathed his double swords and ran the line of one down his finger. Sharp as ever. He anticipated the coming attack.

"Who has a fire type pokemon? Let's distract them with some smoke. They're at the edge of the field, about a mile away." Steve-O suggested. A recruit who hadn't talked much during training spoke up then, a guy by the name of Jaden Namikaze. Hiro vaguely remembered Rex scolding him for wearing red a few times, but was unfamiliar with his face. He saw the world through brown eyes. His skin was a tanned tone and his hair was spiked and brown. Namikaze's "uniform" consisted of a black shirt, red gloves, red goggles, which rested on his head, and black cargo pants. His sneakers were red and black as well.

"I have a fire-type. I can send my Charizard over there." he unclipped a pokeball from its belt at a Charizard blossomed from its core.

"Go over there and smoke it up." Charizard nodded once and slithered away in the tall grass.

XXX

"Look! What type of idiots do they take us for?" Alex Winters scoffed. He jabbed his fingers toward the black smoke that billowed up from a patch of grass.

"We don't know anything yet, Winters. Shut up and don't speak out of turn." Melody snapped. Alex ran a hand through his messy brown hair and rolled his eyes. He didn't need this type of humiliation. At his side, Ipsa Malik was chuckling quietly. She enjoyed when others were reprimanded.

"Stop laughing, bird brain." he hissed at her. Ipsa shrugged and continued her giggling. Talyn Lynch and her Spinarak pushed them both down into the reeds when a Yanmega flit from the brush.

"Oh, god, Yan! Don't scare us like that!" Cameron rubbed his head sheepishly and looked at the squadron with a nervous giggle.

Rico Evans blew white-blonde hair from his eyes and army-crawled through the grass towards the smoke not twenty yards away.

"I'm going to go check it out." a white Espeon named Ivory materialized from the belt of his army issue pants and followed him.

"Disperse, engage all Hostiles. Keep headsets on channel five. Go!" Cameron called. Pokemon were released and the soldiers sprinted into the brush. They didn't make it five feet when the flames of two Charizards set the dry grass alight.

XXX

Jaden Namikaze and Hiro ran to their Charizards and called them back into their arsenals. The flame throwers demolished the green grasses into flat ground. An assailant screeched as she flung shuriken from a pouch tied to her leg. She had long chesnut hair, and dark blue eyes. The nameplate on her breast read "Lynch".

"Jolteon, thunderbolt, now!" Hiro roared, falling flat on the ground to avoid the probably poisoned knives. His companion obliged and sent a chilling shock to the Sinnohian combatant.

"Swampert, I choose you! Mud Slap!" the enormous water type dug his arms beneath the dry ground and drenched it with water, making a slurry too thick to be called mud. The beast flung it at Jolteon, who was coated with the molasses-like muck.

"Shake it off, Jolt! Volt Tackle!"

"Hydro Pump!" Jolteon's speed was a force to be reckoned with—he jumped above the torrent and Hiro got the brunt of it. Water flooded his sinuses and he choked on what little air he had. Jolteon completed a successful Volt Tackle and electrocuted Lynch into unconsciousness. Jolteon leapt onto Swampert and ripped out his throat, spurting crimson blood everywhere. Hiro raised one of his double swords to slit Lynch's throat, but was tackled by a white haired teenager. His name tag read "Rico Evans" and he moved to punch the Kantonian with his scarred left arm.

Hiro deflected the blow with his swords.

"What the hell? Your arm should be sliced open!" Hiro shouted. When the swords made contact with Rico's arm, they made a loud metallic clang, as if his swords struck steel instead of flesh. Rico cocked a brow and pulled a knife from a hidden pouch in his fatigues.

He sliced at Hiro so quickly the half-blind boy couldn't see it coming. Rico came from the left and sheared off a large chunk in Hiro's right shoulder. The pain was hot and searing—he guessed the blade was poisoned.

An Arcanine sprung from the Sinnohian's belt and belched an inferno towards the Jolteon, who still had blood soaking his maw. The electric type sent bolts of power to snub out the flames.

The knife and sword fight between the two boys raged on. Ten feet away, four soldiers were engaged in a bloody battle. Jaden Namikaze and Adele Dittmar wove between each other, ducking and diving at the perfect moment to keep their enemies on edge. The pair were as synchronized as a well-practiced orchestra. Only they didn't play instruments. They wielded deadly weapons, designed to tear human flesh from bone.

Adele punched Ipsa Malik in her jaw. The Native American girl sputtered and choked on her own blood. Her Duskull cast a dark haze around the Kantonians—obscuring their view and allowing the Duskull's master to quickly recover before another blow came. Unfortunately, this left Ipsa and Alex Winters unable to see as well. Ipsa swung her mighty scythe and was pleased when the sharp blade made contact with something. As the haze lifted she realized it was Alex she had maimed. She had severed his right leg below the knee, and blood spurted from the wound like a geyser. Ipsa shrieked in shock and agony—how could she be so stupid?

Alex moaned and vomited on the grass beside him. He inhaled and managed to say, "Ipsa, you crazy bitch, get a medic!" Ipsa scrambled to pick up her scythe and sprinted to Melody, who had Rex in a headlock.

"Lieutenant Kirkland! We have a man down!" Ipsa barked. Melody threw Rex on the ground and kicked her in the temple.

"Get Addie Bryant! She's on air patrol!" Melody threw Ipsa the walkie talkie and deflected Rex's smoke bomb blasts. Ipsa clicked the talk button and said, "Addie Bryant, do you read? Ipsa Malik, infantry! We've got a severed leg down here!" she turned off the black handheld device and ran back to Alex, whose loyal pokemon protected him from Kantonian pressure.

Adele flew back into the fray with her Hitmonchan, attacking Ipsa full on with a right hook. Hitmonchan lunged with a mach punch at her Staraptor, who just flit down with Addie Bryant. Addie and her brother were members of the Sinnohian air watch, a subdivision of the region's Air Force. They were essentially messengers, who rode the skies on flying types and dove down into combat when needed.

Addie was a tall, mature recruit with shoulder length brown hair and blue bandanas wrapped around her body. She instantly called out her Lucario, who began manipulating the blood in Alex's wound with his powers. The push of the aura stopped the flow of blood. Addie recalled her Pidgeot, who she was patrolling with in the sky, and looked around for assailants. Luckily, the patch of wheat in their area was tall enough to obscure them.

"The grass is dry in this area," Addie observed. "We'll be able to hear someone if they're coming." To be sure, Ipsa sent her Staraptor to circle the sky above them.

"If one person shoots at you, retreat. Do you understand?" Staraptor voiced his comprehension and took to the dark skies. Meanwhile, Addie was icing Alex's leg and sent her Pikachu to locate the severed limb.

"We could save it, couldn't we? If we put it on ice?" Ipsa asked. Her voice was saturated with concern. She just destroyed the leg of a _comrade._ She was worried they'd take away her uniform.

"Don't ever use haze again." Alex growled, and winced in pain as Addie wrapped a makeshift torquinet around his thigh.

"Let's move him out. Pidgeot, take Private Winters to the nearest med tent, stat! I'll take his place here." the great bird nodded, and once Alex was securely attached he pushed off the ground and into the air. Addie shook her head in disappointment and turned to her companion.

She and her Pikachu then stole into the reeds, leaving Staraptor and Ipsa alone to sulk.

XXX

**A little short, sorry! Happy 4****th**** of July to all you American readers!**

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